


Unruly

by yeaka



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Raymond’s temporarily lost his mind.
Relationships: Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	Unruly

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Just finished S6e13.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Brooklyn Nine-Nine or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s after _official_ class hours, so most of the students have gone, though a few still cling to the campus much too tightly for Raymond’s liking—he’s feeling particularly prickly about every disorderly child he passes. He sees enough misaligned buttons and food-stained clothing at work to face it at _Kevin’s_ work too. At least the halls are emptier than the grounds. He passes a woman who’s never forgiven him for the magazine kerfuffle, and normally he’d force a polite smile and at least _try_ to get along with his husband’s coworkers, but this time he bristles and pretends he doesn’t see her. She returns the favour. He knows every single member of the faculty is wondering why Kevin Cozner, an incredibly intelligent and handsome alpha, hooked his wagon to such an idiotic omega. The next alpha professor Raymond passes actually gives him a double-take, gaze thick with judgment, like Raymond’s _sullying_ the university by rubbing his wanton omega pheromones everywhere. Raymond triple checks his posture and carries on. 

He reaches Kevin’s classroom and wrenches the door open harder than he means to. He’s sure to shut it behind him as he slips inside. The rowed seats are barren, but the lone desk at the front is occupied—Kevin looks up from a hefty stack of papers. Raymond’s barely made it down the steps before Kevin’s come out to meet him. 

He walks straight to Raymond, and for one horrifying moment, Raymond’s gripped by the inexplicable urge to _reach over and kiss him._ Not something light, either, not the kind of chaste peck to the cheek that might be permitted in church. He wants to run his fingers back through Kevin’s styled red-brown hair and kiss him _hard_ , full of tongue and teeth, and maneuver back to Kevin’s desk before tossing all the papers off and bending right over it. 

A shiver snakes down Raymond’s spine. He snaps himself out of it. He’s not an _animal_. He’s not what the other professors think about him. He’s not Peralta on a good day. But his hands do lift of their own accord, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s _straightening Kevin’s tie._

He might as well have thrown Kevin down to the polished tile and stripped off his sweatervest. The lewd display of public affection is just as damning. Kevin’s hands lift to catch Raymond’s, his long fingers wrapping loosely around Raymond’s wrists, _skin on skin_ before the fabric of Raymond’s uniform. He didn’t stop at home first to change. Raymond stills his fussing. The tie was already straight anyway. Kevin’s always immaculate. His eyes search Raymond’s for a moment, and then he murmurs, “Stop.”

It pulls Raymond back down to Earth. He drops his arms to his sides and forces himself not to lunge forward when he wants to. He’s had decades of oppression to practice restraining his emotions, and most days, he doesn’t have to think twice about it. Kevin’s often a brilliant source of support, but other times too great a temptation. Then Kevin makes an ingenious deduction: “You’re going into heat.”

Raymond frowns. He opens his mouth to insist that’s _absurd_ ; he keeps perfect track of his cycle and isn’t due to start for another six hours at least. And even if he were to start early, he’s not foolish enough to venture out in public. Especially not to his own alpha. He would never do anything to embarrass Kevin. 

Except a perfectly _sober_ , _sane_ Raymond Holt would never straighten another man’s tie outside of the bedroom. At least, not in the way he was doing it. Kevin’s logic is inescapable. Raymond’s jaw tightens. He mutters, “I apologize.” Not for his heat, of course. For his obscene behaviour. Kevin gives a short nod of acceptance. 

“Can you wait until we get home?”

Kevin shouldn’t go home yet, not before he needs to—he probably has essays to mark or his own paper to write or any other—

Raymond realizes he’s staring at Kevin’s mouth, and no, he can’t wait. He has to. He should be able to. But all he can think about is Kevin’s talented hands playing him like a collector’s violin. He admits, “No.”

Kevin’s shoulders slump with a sigh. This isn’t how either of them would have it. They’re tidy, efficient, appropriate people. They don’t devolve into mindless, pheromone-ridden sex outside of the bedroom. 

Sometimes, unexpected things happen. Kevin takes a step forward, which is already too close. His glossy loafers slide in between Kevin’s force-issue boots. Raymond can _feel_ Kevin’s breath tickling his chin. He can feel the warmth radiating off Kevin’s body, somehow nearly as hot as the sun and every bit as mesmerizing. Kevin tells him, slow and firm, “Meet me in the east washroom in five minutes.”

 _Fire_ courses through Raymond’s brain. For a split second, he’s consumed with images of _Kevin_ , turning to pin him against a bathroom stall or bending him over the sink. He thinks of hard, fast, _rough_ sex in a dingy university bathroom, deep enough to soothe Raymond’s raging hormones, enough to get him home in one piece. He looks into Kevin’s eyes and wants his husband to _ravage_ him.

Intellectually, he knows that won’t happen. He _might_ get a kiss, a proper one, and a calming string of orders purred into his ear—just enough to tide him over until Kevin can get them safely home. It doesn’t even occur to him that Kevin would be sending him there so as not to be seen with him. He knows it’s only logical; they can’t walk there together, because if Raymond spends any more time with Kevin, the buttons on Kevin’s perfectly tailor suit will be forever broken in Raymond’s fervour to get it all off. 

Raymond sucks in a long breath and steps back. He nods. He can follow orders. He’s used to _giving_ orders. But that’s when his mind’s working properly. 

He turns his back on the love of his life and walks rigidly off for the washroom, fighting hard not to get preemptively _hard_ , as only Kevin can do to him.


End file.
